


Chaos and Clothes

by Siarh



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath, Aftermath of a Case, Angry Dean Winchester, Angst, Awesome Jo Harvelle, Back Seat, Background Ellen Harvelle, Blow Jobs, Blow Jobs in a Car, Comforting Dean Winchester, Comforting Sam Winchester, Couch Cuddles, Couch Sex, Daddy Issues, Dean Gives Oral Sex, Dean Winchester Loves The Impala, Dean is a Tease, Didn't mean for it to be a songfic, Drama, Dreams, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s02e06 No Exit, Eventual Smut, Everyone Has Issues, F/M, Family Drama, Floor Sex, Harvelle's Roadhouse, How is Road Head Not already a tag???, Hunters & Hunting, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Impala Makeouts, Is Sam Really Asleep?, Jo Gives Oral Sex, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mommy Issues, No Slash, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Philadelphia, Post-Episode: s02e06 No Exit, Radio, Road Head, Road Trips, Sam's asleep in the back seat, Sam's asleep in the next room, Sam's not getting anything in this, Semi-Public Sex, Serial Killers, Sex, Showering Dean, Singing, Singing Dean Winchester, Sleeping in the Impala, Slow Burn, Song Lyrics, Songfic, Supportive Sam Winchester, Table Sex, Who doesnt have issues??, Winchester issues, Women of Supernatural, Work In Progress, blow jobs in the impala, outdoor oral sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-03-18 20:13:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13688994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siarh/pseuds/Siarh
Summary: Slight AU: Imagine if Ellen didn't come get her daughter Jo after her hunt with the Winchesters in Philly in No Exit. Just pretend Dean promised Ellen they would deliver her safe and sound back to the roadhouse. What happened in that fully paid for apartment the night before they left for Nebraska?Rated M for language, violence and eventual sexual situations.Title comes from Jason Isbell's song of the same name.  Pretty much everything he's done has been my constant companion while writing this.





	1. Chaos

**Author's Note:**

> Be gentle on me. This is a new fandom for me. I always welcome comments!!

With a soft crack of her shoulder, Jo stretched as she stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around her damp frame, copious amounts of steam flowing into the room with he. She couldn't remember the last time she enjoyed a shower as much that one. It had alleviated some of the aches that seemed to fill her body. Bar tending hadn't really prepared her for squishing through tight spaces, being dragged by a specter, or trying to escape from a metal box in the dark.

She shuddered slightly as she thought about the dirty holes the specter had shoved her and Theresa into, not to mention the creepy petting they had to endure. Jo closed her eyes and shook her head, pushing those thoughts aside, lest she need another lengthy shower. She needed to be stronger than this if she wanted to continue hunting. No hunter, much less Dean Winchester, would ever take her seriously if she let herself fall apart after this one hunt. Seasoned hunters had experienced way worse things than being taken and groped by a creepy-ass ghost.

With a steadying shake of her head, she reached into her backpack, searching for clothes when the door to the apartment slammed open. Dean stumbled into the apartment carrying an armload of brown bags and a bewildered look as he tried to regain his footing.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered to himself as he moved back to the door with certainty, giving it a swift kick for his troubles. He winced for a second, studying the doorframe intently for damage. "Well it ain't my deposit," he said, shrugging and turning toward the kitchen.

It was only after Jo could no longer hold back a giggle that Dean realized she was there and that she realized he could see her. His look of surprise turned to something entirely different as she tightened the towel around her and grabbed the first shirt and set of underthings she could from her bag.

"Didn't expect you back so soon," she smiled feebly as she felt another soft tremor flow through her body. Though this one had a lot less to do with the terror she'd felt in the sewer and more to do with the with the foreign look in the other hunter's eyes. If Jo didn't know any better, she'd almost swear Dean looked...hungry?

His expression was gone in an instant. Dean cleared his throat and began to hurriedly divest himself of his spoils, turning his attention to the groceries instead of her. "You use up all the hot water?" he groused, the friendly big brother tone back in his voice as he unloaded beer into the fridge.

Recognizing an escape when she saw one, Jo smiled nervously, backing toward the bathroom. "Mighta left you some. Gimme a second and the bathroom is all yours."

"No rush, sweetheart. Got all night," he assured her as he opened one of the beers, tilting the open mouth toward her in salute. "Cuz you done good today."

With a small, embarrassed smile, Jo closed the door and rested her forehead against it for a second before taking a deep breath and stepping back to get dressed. She let the damp towel hit the floor before tugging her panties into place. She glanced at herself in the mirror as she put her bra on, suddenly wishing she had grabbed coordinating under things when she packed for this trip.

Silently she berated herself. No one but her was going to see if her panties matched her bra tonight. She needed to let this post-hunt adrenaline go before she did something stupid and embarrassed herself in front of the Winchesters, most importantly Dean.

They had had some sort of connection before the past two days, but even he had to admit they worked well together despite the overbearing protection crap he pulled. She was fairly certain Sam would have treated her different if they had been paired up to explore the building. He may not have liked her going solo either but he wasn't the one questioning her every move, tearing apart her every bit of research.

She shuddered at the thought of the destruction Dean had handed the wall when he had tried to reach her. She'd heard it after Holmes grabbed her and seen it while they were collecting their tools and gear after all was said and done and the cement was cooling. Dean had given her a half a smile as she whistled low at the sight, almost as if he'd been embarrassed at the ferocity of his reaction.

"Told your mom I'd bring you home safe," he explained as he picked up the sledge hammer, slinging it across his shoulder. Bravado covered his embarrassment as he slid his arms over each end of wooden handle. "I'd rather face 10 of Holmes than go back to your mom without you," he admitted. "Not after I promised."

"After you lied to her the first time she called you," she reminded him.

With a self-satisfied shrug, he had given her half a laugh as he walked past her toward their temporary apartment. "Minor details."

Jo scoffed. "She's eaten more charming men than you for breakfast, you know."

He turned to see if she was following him. "You think I'm charming?" he started, the smugness seeming to drip from his entire being. Before she could respond, a look of sudden realization flashed over Dean's face.

"Wait!" He stopped abruptly, turning to look back at her thoughtfully. "Your mom thinks  **I'm**  charming? Think I've got a chance there?" The tip of his tongue danced against his upper teeth as he grinned widely at Jo as he waggled -  _how cliche_ \- his eyebrows.

Jo smiled at herself in the foggy mirror, shaking her head at the enigma that was Dean Winchester. She grabbed the shirt from the sink edge and and her smile disappeared as she shook it loose.

"Damnit! "she muttered exasperatedly as she took in exactly which shirt it was she'd picked up.

She heard the sound of glass against the door, and she realized after she jumped and squealed it was Dean's beer. "You alright?" he called, the knob on the door making a slight noise, as if he was about to turn it.

"YEAH!" She called hastily, pulled the well worn shirt over her head. "Stubbed my toe," she lied before grabbing her jeans off the floor. "Be out in second."

She heard him release the door handle and step back. "Alright. Food's getting cold."

Buttoning her jeans, she sighed at her reflection. Her grade school softball shirt glared back at her. She might as well put her hair in pigtails. She couldn't look anymore like she was just a kid.

Brushing her hair forward over her shoulders, letting it drape over her shirt as much as possible, she opened the door and padded out into the apartment in bare feet. She glanced at Dean seated in the lazy boy, shoveling some form of food from a white Chinese take out carton into his mouth with chopsticks. He smiled with his eyes as he stood up, slurping the noodles dangling from his lips into his mouth.

"I'm next," he crowed, plonking the box down on the table and taking a long drink from his beer. Jo smiled at him and grabbed her bag tight to her chest, heading for the bedroom. Standing with her back to the door, she stuffed her filthy clothes into one of the side pouches.

Once the bathroom door clicked shut and she heard the water start, along with what sounded like Dean singing, she dug through her bag for something else to wear, even though she knew there was nothing. She hadn't packed much. The few decent pieces she did pack she had worn during the hunt, and there was no way she was putting that back on. She was seriously considering burning the shirt, if she was honest with herself.

With a defeated purse of her lips, she zipped the bag shut and tossed it to the floor. Jo cheered a bit to Dean's gravely rendition of "Can't You See" while she opened the remaining cartons on the table. Finding one that suited her, she grabbed a pair of chopsticks, settling in the recliner with a pout. Turning on the seat, she settled her back half against one arm, half against the back and draped her legs across the opposite arm.

 _Gonna climb me a mountain, the highest mountain_  
_Jump off, nobody gonna know_

Finally comfortable, she let her mind wander through the fields of memory and distraction as she dug into the beef and broccoli that smelled heavenly. She hadn't realized how hungry she was until the first bit of vegetable hit her lips. She couldn't even remember the last time she ate. Chewing carefully, she closed her eyes and followed her random thought pattern through an illogical jump that hopefully didn't lead her back to the dark cell in the basement.

 _I'm gonna find me a hole in the wall_  
_I gonna crawl inside and die  
_ _Cause my lady now, mean ol' woman lord, never told me goodbye_

Absently humming along with Dean, she tried to think back to the last time she had chinese. It certainly was not at the roadhouse, there was next to nothing outside of moonshine that could be labeled as "ethnic" in that part of Nebraska. Maybe it was when she did a run for her mom to Kansas City to pick up supplies that were on backorder from the company that usually delivered them.

 _Ride me a Southbound_  
_All the way to Georgia now_  
_Till the train run out of track_

She had taken Ash, mostly for the company. They had talked about various cases she had heard other hunters talk about in the bar, and the cases Ash was currently working on. Hunters weren't well known for their technological prowess, so Ash had a fair amount of work to get through. He had tried to explain how he was tracking one creature through the backwoods of Montana, where it was picking off seemingly random number of cattle, but he had actually found the pattern to prove it wasn't as random as everyone else had thought.

 _Can't you see, oh can't you see_  
_What that woman, she been doin' to me_

The two of them had stopped at a hole-in-the-wall place in a strip mall after loading up the truck with the cases of whiskey, tequila, and swizzle sticks. It had to be some of the best Chinese food Jo had ever eaten. Until Ash pointed out the amount of MSG it contained.

It was only when the bathroom door opened that she realized she hadn't heard the shower or singing in a while. Working to keep her jaw firmly in place, she watched Dean walk out into the main part of the apartment, dressed only in a pair of jeans, a towel draped over his naked shoulders. Jo swallowed hard against the warmth that filled her body at the sight of far more Dean than she'd ever experienced before, and tried to drag her traitorous eyes back to her lap where she half-ass stirred her chopsticks through her chosen food.

Dean's eyes narrowed momentarily at his usurped seat, but instead of commenting like Jo knew he would have with Sam, he simply tossed his towel to the side, picked up his food and continued inhaling it where he'd left off, opting to circling the room slowly rather than find another seat.

Several minutes of mutually silent eating later, Jo couldn't decide just how uncomfortable she really was. She'd had her fill of the take-out but couldn't come up with anything to say that didn't sound woefully juvenile or just plain stupid. She swung her legs to the floor nervously, hoping Dean didn't notice the red flush the swept over her face every time his wandering took him past her.

A dull pain echoed through her leg where she had tried to kick open her prison earlier. She knew there was going to be a bruise come tomorrow. Setting the container holding what was left of her dinner and chopsticks on the floor, she reached down to pull her pant leg up, searching for the red mark she knew was there.

"You al'ight?" Dean asked, stopping his continuous pacing to watch her, concern lacing his tone, even if he didn't take time to swallow his mouthful of noodles.

Following the bare feet up the jean clad legs to the equally bare stomach in front of her-  _where the hell is his shirt_ \- Jo swallowed hard as she forced herself to look up at his face, certain he was trying to melt her brain. "Yeah. Yeah. I'm fine. Just gonna have a bruise." She sat back and showed him, pointing her toe slightly as she stretched her leg out between them.

Spinning one of the chairs around from the table to face her, he set his own take out to the side and reached for her leg as he sat on the edge of the seat. She jerked slightly, not anticipating the feel of his rough hand on the back of her calf. He looked at her with a half a smirk. "Don't be a baby," he scolded, pulling her foot up for a closer look. The angle he held it made Jo lean back into the overstuffed chair, her hands gripping at the arms. Brushing one finger over the reddened skin, he nodded. "Looks like you'll live. Don't think we'll have to amputate."

Drawing her lip between her teeth, she could only nod, trying to come up with some sort of coherent response, but all she could think of was the unsettling heat that was spreading through her body his touch. It has been entirely too long since she had been touched by someone, much less a man who looked at her the way Dean could. She closed her eyes and turned her head away, hiding her face from his view with her hair.

"You sure you're okay, Jo?" Her foot fell back to the floor as he released it to lean forward, brushing hair back from her cheek.

She jerked from his touch again, trying to save herself the embarrassment of him seeing her reddened cheeks. There was too much post-hunt-I-might-not-have-lived-til-morning still running through her system, and she needed to find someway to release it. And the little voice in the back of her head was insisting Dean was just that right way.

"Hey, hey," he cooed softly, mistaking her jumpiness for something more to do with her recently experienced trauma in the sewer than what was actually on her brain. He grabbed her chin gently between his fingers, turning her toward him as he settled on his heels next to the chair. "You're safe no-"

No longer fighting him or herself, Jo's liquid chocolate eyes landed on his emerald ones, and Dean's breath caught in his throat. She didn't know what he was looking for in her eyes, but it seemed he found it as he turned his fingers to skim between her hair and her cheek, cupping her soft skin in his roughened palm. Jo closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. When she opened her eyes again, she found his freckled face a breath's width from her own. She watched her own hand float up his arm, skimming over his shoulder before coming to rest on his neck..

"Jo," he almost whispered, as if he was trying to warn her away. His face warred between hesitance and that hunger she thought she'd seen earlier.

Unable to stop herself, the blonde leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, laying gentle kisses to his parted mouth. Dean froze for a brief moment, his fingers tense against her cheek.

She wasn't sure who sighed first, but the tiny sound was all it took to set both their hands into motion, tangling into hair, grabbing hips and shoulders, drawing the other closer as their tongues met, sending sharp electricity through Jo's system.


	2. Clothes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some how Jo forgot about Sam...

Dean sank to his knees on the floor, and cradled Jo to him, pulling her into his lap, their mouths never leaving the other.  He nibbled on her bottom lip as his hand skimmed down her back, seizing her ass tightly to draw her as close as possible, raising them both to their knees.  Her fingers scraped at the back of his neck, sending a low growl into her mouth.  

 

The young woman tangled her arms around him, her other hand finding its way to that beautiful dip at his lower back.  His mouth tasted like salvation, and, if she allowed herself to think it, he might even smell like home.  But Jo willed herself to keep her school girl crush under as much control as she could, focusing on the here and now as his grip tighten on her ass.  His other hand coursed down her neck, fingers curling behind her head, tilting her head to his exact liking as he continued his onslaught.

 

Jo whimpered against him, her hands exploring down his sides, curling her fingers toward her palms.  She almost giggled at the feel of him involuntarily jerk at her touch over his ribs.  _ Is Dean Winchester ticklish? _  She tested the same area again, only to be met with a more forcible reaction of him grabbing her wrists and  pushing her hands to his chest, wedging them between their bodies.  

 

“Behave,” he growled threateningly as his teeth nipped her lips.  She grinned up at him through her eyelashes.  He swatted her ass and nibbled a gentle trail to her jaw, up to her ear.  His breath and her heartbeat were the only sounds she was aware of; she was more than a little surprised when he all at once pulled away from her, pushing her hands back to her sides. .  

 

Jo groaned rather unladylike, as her eyes flashed hotly toward Dean, who only half waved her off as he slid back up into his chair.  “What the hell-” she muttered under her breath, only to be cut off by the front door popping violently open.   She wanted to whine, cry or whimper at the unfairness to finally get her hands, or well mouth, on Dean only to be cut short by the brother she had temporarily forgotten.

 

Too late to move elegantly, Jo just pursed her lips and leaned back against the foot of the recliner as the younger Winchester came into view over his brother’s shoulder. “Oh, hey, Sam,” she muttered, trying to school her voice to a normal level and hide what to her seemed to be obvious frustration.  She could only hope it wasn't overly obvious what had just been happening as he struggled with the lock.  

 

Concern filled his face as he looked at her slumped on the floor almost at Dean’s feet.  “You ok, Jo?” he looked from her to Dean and back again, trying to make sense of her unusual seating choice.  

 

“Cramp...” she trailed off with a scowl as Dean simultaneously responded, “Too much to drink.”

 

Sam’s face scrunched into a look of complete confusion.  “Yeah, ok,” he muttered almost to himself before offering Jo a hand up.  As he got her settled back into the recliner, he gave his brother a confused look that was met with a “shut-it” glare over the curved end of Dean’s bottle.

 

“How’s Theresa?” Jo suddenly asked, looking for something to cut through the tension in the room as Sam shed his coat, draping it across one of the empty chairs. She tucked her legs underneath her,  curling into a ball on the seat.  She tried to push everything that had just happened between her and Dean to the side, taking a deep breath and focusing on the aftermath of the case.   _ The tanglable aftermath _ , she told the devil on her shoulder who tried to convince her fucking Dean senseless was a perfectly wonderful way to spend the aftermath.  

 

Running a hand through his hair, Sam let out another sigh. “She’s ok.  Shaken up mostly.”

 

“Understandable,” Dean muttered as he emptied his beer, obviously avoiding Jo’s gaze as much as she was avoiding his.  

 

Jo chose to watch Sam move through the kitchen.  “How much did you tell her?” she asked, curious.  One of the several aspects of hunting she hadn’t had to consider before today, she never thought about what to tell others who experienced the creatures they encountered.  

 

Opening the beer and tossing the cap toward the sink, Sam gave her half a shrug before taking a sip.  “Not much she didn’t already figure out on her own, truthfully.”  He stood at the kitchen counter for a moment, lost in his own thoughts before continuing.  “Tried to convince her she was safe here now but sounds like her boyfriend was already on his way over to pack up her stuff.  I think I ran into him hauling boxes out in the lobby.”

 

“Should I go see her?” Jo asked the room in general.  “For, you know, some sort of solidarity?”

 

She was met with a pair of infuriatingly clueless shrugs.  “Kinda late for visiting hours now,” Dean responded patronizingly.  He gestured toward the windows with his chin as he strode across the room to snag a shirt from his bag, pulling it on.   With an exasperated sigh and a turn of the chair she was in, she followed his line of sight, putting her back and the recliner between her and them.  The man did nothing but push her buttons, both good and bad.  

 

“Fine,” she started, anger barely restrained under her tone as he crossed the apartment, and out of her view.  “I want to stop at Mercy on our  way out of town tomorrow, ”she stated as she stood, striding toward the fridge, and taking an unopened beer from Dean’s hands.   Effectively breezing through yet another brother silent conversation, and noting their hesitation, she let out a harsh breath as she laid the opener on the counter between her and the older hunter.  “I am fine, guys.  I’m not going to melt down.”

 

Sam set his beer down on the counter with an unreadable expression, and she quickly realized he was the only one who had really seen Theresa and her injuries.  He had quickly got the other woman out of the sewer, while she and Dean discussed their plan and started to lay salt down to capture Holmes.  Jo had been so set on getting the job done and over, getting past being bait, she hadn't even thought about asking the extent of Theresa’s injuries until now.  She had assumed Theresa’s would mirror her own, a few bumps, scrapes and bruises.  

 

“What aren't you telling me?” Jo asked, putting her beer on the table before settling in a chair opposite Dean’s, trying not to notice him sit back down.  The tension between them was quickly being replaced by annoyance on both sides.  “Thought I made it pretty clear I could handle myself, wouldn't you say?  I’m not some squeamish school girl.”

 

Dean pursed his lips in that smug way of his as his eyes drifted to the front of her shirt. Realizing she couldn't have picked a worse way of stating that, Jo huffed, crossed her arms over her chest and scowled at him.  “Jerkface,” was the best she come back she could come up with.

 

With a small smile of his own, Sam joined them at the table, sitting at the far end with his back toward the bathroom.  His eyes flicked between the other two, seeming to note a tension he couldn't quite place.  Not appearing to worry too much about it, and just letting them glower at one another for another second, he took a quick drink out of his bottle while scanning the tops of the boxes left on the table.  Grabbing a set of chopsticks, a box of fried rice, and snagging an eggroll that Jo had somehow missed earlier, Sam set about eating.  “Look, Jo, because she was held longer than you, and didn’t have your....” he trailed off, seeming to look for the right words as he chewed slowly.  

 

“Pain in the ass-ery?” Dean filled in for him, looking rather pleased with himself.  Grabbing his suddenly empty bottle and heading for the fridge, he punctuated his jab by ruffling her hair as he went by.  Jo shot him one of the best death glares she had learned from her mom, making Sam almost choke on his food.  Dean only smirked and waggled his eyebrows at her as he used the edge of the counter to open his beer. 

 

Once Sam’s mouth was safely clear of egg roll, he tried again, clearing his throat first.  “Theresa wasn't prepared for what you encountered down there.”  Pulling her eyes from Dean, Jo turned back to her bottle focusing on the label as Sam continued.  “You at least kept your wits about you.”  She nodded, briefly reliving the horror she felt after she woke in her cell, swallowing hard around the bile filled lump that played in her throat.  “She panicked,” he admitted, picking at his rice, keeping half an eye on Jo as he continued.  “And scraped at the walls and ceiling until all of her nails were shredded from her fingers.”

 

Jo could not help the terror that raged through her at Sam’s words.  Her mind flashed back to the first thing she saw when she turned her flashlight on in her prison cell.  The scratch marks of so many other young women, the gouges that ran deep with red and brown stains, denoting  **years** of torture Holmes had inflicted on others.  

 

Internally cursing herself, Jo fought against the wave a nausea that filled her and the tears that stung her eyes.  Drawing a heavy breath, she pulled her legs under her chin on the small chair.  She wished, not for the first time in the past day, she had the resolution that these two men had.  Hoisting her almost full beer to her lips, she drained it before taking what she hoped sounded like a calming breath.

 

With her eyes closed as she settled the bottle back on the table, she felt Sam’s hand on her arm, giving her a gentle squeeze.  On instinct alone, she placed her hand on top of his and patted it.  “I’m okay.  I’m...”  Even to her own ears she suddenly sounded drained and tired.  

 

“You don’t have to be,” Sam stated simply.  Opening her eyes in surprise, she looked over at him with a weak smile, which was answered with one of his own.  “You can talk to us about what you saw, what he did.  Any of it.”  

 

Jo only shook her head and brushed his hand away as she stood.  “I’m fine,” she insisted again.  She did not miss the unsettled look the brothers shared.  “I am!” she maintained, tossing her bottle in the trash.  Half wondering if Dean had picked up anything with more of a kick than these laugers, Jo just opened the fridge, grabbing two more.

 

After a painful moment of silence, the eldest member of the group suddenly spoke up, cutting through the heavy atmosphere filling the apartment.  “Sammy,” Dean started, voice leaving little room for argument.  “You stink, man. I think you need to hit the showers.”  

 

Handing him his beer, Jo had to fight rolling her eyes at the not-so-subtle subtleness of Dean’s suggestion.  Glancing over at Sam, she watched him try to read his brother’s play.  She just shrugged, settling in the recliner, taking a longer sip.  

 

“I got her,” Dean insisted with a dismissive wave of his hand, sucking back his own beer.  

 

Sam looked at Jo with a questioningly arched eyebrow, before looking back at his brother, his voice straining against some sort of emotion. “Gonna give her one of your world famous ’Suck it up, buttercup’ speeches?  Cuz I'm not sure that's exactly what she needs right now, Dean.”

 

“And ‘Here, lean on my big, broad shoulders’ is the way to toughen her up?” Dean replied, his face pinched, letting the beer down harder than he had.  

 

Sam stood up, and shook his head.  “Cause you always know what's best for people,” his tone was snide and spoke of something other than what was happening here.  

 

“Believe it or not, in this case yeah I do.”  Dean stared hard at his brother, his tone unwavering, making parts of Jo slowly simmer.  Maybe it was just the beer, or....   “Especially now.  How many hunters have you helped deal with their first hunt?”

 

Suddenly snapping back to the conversation, Jo’s face filled with indignation. She sat forward on the chair, elbows on her wide splayed knees.  “Who said this was my first hunt?”

 

Dean didn't even hesitate as he turned his grumpy face toward her.  “I do,” he asserted, pointing to himself, his eyes filled with certainty, his tone full of arrogance. 

 

Within the briefest of moments, she was beyond pissed that he would make such an assumption.  How the fuck did he know this was her first hunt?  “Who the hell died and made you king of all hunters?” she demanded, her ire running deep.   She barely tolerated her mom treating her like a child, but another hunter who was scarcely only a few years older than her, and had only known her for a brief period of time? No way in hell. He had  **no** idea anything about her life. Her hackles went up;  she was done putting up with Dean Winchester and his crap today. 

 

“You reach back to grade school for that insult?” he asked snidely, that arrogance she found attractive only minutes ago suddenly grating on her nerves.  

 

“Dean,” Sam called his brother’s name before Jo could open her mouth respond.  “Leave her be.”

 

Taking a deep breath, Dean closed his eyes, and rubbed them with the heels of his hand, emotions skitting across his face quicker than Jo could assign them all names.  “Fine,” he relented, dropping his hands to the table top, his voice calmer.  “Go take that shower, Sam. Seriously.”  Jo watched him seem to struggle himself with his thoughts.  

 

The younger man knit his brows and looked over at Jo.  It took the woman a few seconds to rip her eyes from Dean.  She wasn't sure what she was feeling right now; the emotions swirled in all directions, making her head swim.  Is  **this** what it was like after every hunt?  She guessed she had seen all forms of dealing with the adrenaline from hunters at the roadhouse, everything from drinking until passed out on the floor, fucking anything that had a pulse, to bar fights to shame any MMA fighter.  She shouldn’t be any more surprised this was the route the outcome of this hunt was taking, considering the three personalities involved in this conversation.  

 

“Jo?” Sam asked, softly, snapping her out of her own brain.  

 

She shook her head, and focused on him with a small shy smile, the room less tense.    “Yeah, go, Sam.  I’m good.  I’ll manage til you get back.”  

 

The dark haired man stood and took a final sip of his beer before heading to the bathroom, shucking his shirt over his head as he went, which almost went completely unnoticed by Jo.  “Don’t kill him.  He  **is** a dick but he’s the only brother I’ve got,” he requested.  

 

“Being an only child has its perks,” she insisted only half-joking.

 

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Dean turn in his chair before Sam had the door fully shut.  He held his hand out to her, which she looked at questioningly, unsure what the gesture meant.  With a small playful huff, Dean reached out to squeeze her hand that sat on her knee.  They both stared at where his thumb brushed over the back of her knuckles. 

 

“He’s not wrong, you know,” he muttered, with a nonchalant shrug, his voice softer around the edges.  “If you need to, you can talk to us.  I’m sure today wasn’t easy for you no matter how much you want to front that it was just another ordinary day in the life of Hunter Barbie.”  

 

Watching as if it was someone else’s movements, Jo turned her hand in his grasp and laced their fingers, while she got lost in her own thoughts, not really hearing what Dean said.   He allowed it to happen and even gently squeezed her fingers with his own.  There was no lasciviousness in Dean’s movements, nothing remotely suggestive, just support, which only confused Jo further after his tone with Sam just a few minutes ago.  She was swirling, too many emotions, too much to think about.  

 

“Jo?” Dean asked softly, dragging their hands toward him, settling them against his own knee, making her lean forward, eyes still focused on their grasped hands.  

 

Before she could start to answer, the bathroom door opened.  Neither flinched but just looked at Sam dressed only in his shorts and holding up a plastic garbage bag.  “Sorry, ah, I just need a hand wrapping up my cast.”  

 

Faintly, Dean squeezed Jo’s hand before stalking toward his brother, grabbing a roll of tape from his weapon duffel that never seemed to be too far out of his reach. “You gonna want a sponge bath to go with that too?” he mocked, putting the bag over Sam’s right hand.  Jo didn’t miss the slight blush that appeared on Sam’s cheeks as he glanced at her while Dean wrapped the bottom of the bag with duct tape.  

 

“Just this should do the trick,” Sam insisting, as he smoothed his hand over the tape.  “Thanks,” he gave them both a shy smile before disappearing behind the door again.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thank you to marksmanfem and mar_sin_nua for their support! Thank you ladies! <3


	3. There's No Crying In Hunting!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean tries to counsel Jo.

Dean gave Jo a stern look as the bathroom door clicked shut while pointing her toward the couch.  She reluctantly sighed and grabbed their beers, following his nonverbal command.  She deposited the bottles on the coffee table before flopping down in an unladylike fashion, glancing around the room, uncertain what to do with herself or say.

Leaning back against the arm and back of the sofa, Dean sipped at his beer as he put his bare feet on the edge of the coffee table.  Placing his hand on her shoulder, he gently pulled her backwards.  At first Jo resisted, still conscious of the fact that there was no water running yet in the bathroom but the need for support was almost overwhelming, making her feel weaker yet.  With a resigned sigh, Jo settled with her back against his shoulder, his heart beating comfortingly under her shoulder blade, his hand gently squeezing her shoulder where it landed.  

“Whatcha thinking?” he asked before swallowing more beer. “Despite my little brother’s doubts, I can listen, you know.”

Closing her eyes, Jo scrubbed her hand over her face.  “I don't know what to think, Dean,” she confessed as his thumb brushed soothingly against her shoulder.  “What to feel, how to process any of this.”  The case.  Him.  How slowly her mom was going to kill her when she got home.  “I mean this should have been a simple job.”

Turning to briefly kiss the side of her damp head, she felt him linger and laugh as she forced herself to not pay any attention to his warm breath against her hypersensitive skin.  “Any hunter who tells you there is such a thing as a simple job is lying through their teeth, sweetheart.”  Jo snorted, not at all surprised.   

“And for all intents and purposes, today did go relatively well,” he continued. “You know despite you feeling the need to get taken,” he teased with a shrug against her back.  “You did do good though, Jo.  I may have given you a hard time but when it came down to it, I couldn't have asked for a better person to be hunting with.  You kept your shit together when it mattered.”

Jo allowed herself to grin at his complements.  Dean didn’t strike her as the type who was saying this just for her benefit, even if he was angling to get in her pants at sometime tonight.  

With a gentle squeeze on her shoulder, he sat back. “I never knew him, but I think your dad woulda been proud of you today, Jo,” he said softly. 

Her eyes and throat suddenly burned hot with all the tears she had been fighting against since she woke up in the cell.  Bringing one hand up to her mouth, rubbing the back of her fingers against her lips, Jo blinked hard as she looked out the window above the couch, swallowing in an attempt to keep these emotions in the box they belonged.   

She missed her dad, more than she let on earlier when she and Dean talked.  Her dad had walked on water in her 13 year old brain.   Her mom told her the pain would pass with time.  All time really did was mask it until the scab was torn from the memories, sending her spiralling back into that hurt.  

All Joanna Beth Harvelle ever wanted was her Daddy’s approval. He gave it to her when she was a girl, everything she did.  Softball, school, girl scouts.  He went to every event when he was home.  But she never got to show him she could do this too.  She could be like him.  She could hunt with him.  

She was not only envious of Dean having his dad as long as he had, but also they hunted together.  John showed Dean things.  Jo had her books, her knife collection, and conversations with any hunter who wandered through the Roadhouse door.  But that wasn't the same as being shown how to do this job.  

Jo slowly came to the realization she was enveloped in Dean’s embrace, face flush to his chest, him whispering soothing noises in the hair on the top of her head. 

“Son of a bitch, Jo,” he started, softly, sounding at a loss. “I didn't mean...”

His words went in one ear and out the other as she continued to mourn for her father, the time she could have had with him, and an overwhelming sense of loss that she didn't even know she had left after almost 20 years.  

Biting her tongue hard, mentally pushing the emotions down into her heart to lock back up, Jo willed herself to calm down.  It took a few minutes of slow breathes and self talk but she eventually pulled away, avoiding Dean’s concerned look.  

“So much for not looking like a fool on my first hunt,” she sniffled, wiping impatiently at wet and red checks.  

Dean was silent as she stared out the dark window.  He was silent as she pulled the edge of her shirt up and wiped at her face.  He was still silent as she finally turned to face him. He looked dumbfounded, and confused. And it looked like he might have also been crying.   

“I’m sorry,” she started softly, her eyes seeming to water again.  Or maybe just yet.  

Dean just closed his eyes for a second, shaking his head slightly. “C’mere,” he all but whispered to her, waving his hand. When she turned and looked at him, he waved his hand again.  “C’mere.”  His hand rubbed  wearily across his eyes, his ring catching the glow from the recessed lights above.   Jo continued to just watch him, wondering what was going through his pretty little head.  “Don't make me say it again,” he mumbled as he uncovered his face, his eyes seeming to briefly lose focus on her before he grabbed her arm steadily pulling her against him.  

She sighed softly and allowed herself to relax into him as his arms moved  around her.  With a deep breath, she curled her legs behind her on the couch and bowed her head to lay on Dean’s chest.  As she tried to collect her thoughts enough to say something that was decidedly not stupid, the door to the bathroom opened.  Jo tried to spring out of Dean’s arms, but he simply held her tight.  Sam stopped in the doorway in his lounge pants and garbage bag, looking them over, one eyebrow arched high enough on his forehead it disappeared under his wet hair.

“So....” he started.  “Not gonna kill each other?”

“All made up,” Dean assured him, the bravado back in his voice, cocky-as-hell smile firmly back in place.   “Even managed a make up quickie while you were gone.”

Without a second thought, Jo threw her elbow into Dean’s ribs making Sam laugh.  “Right,” he smirked as he grabbed a knife out of Dean’s bag, cutting the tape to free himself. 

Jo untangled herself from the moan-giggling Dean with a dramatic huff.  “Cause that's all the longer he lasts.”

“Oh is that what you think?” Dean attempted to sound hurt as he stood from the couch and stalked slowly across the small space, eyes on Jo. “Might have a mind to show you different.”

Sam groaned playfully, watching Jo back up to the table.  “You need another 2 minutes? I can go back in the bathroom...” He pointed his thumb back over his shoulder.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dont know the timeline of when Jo's dad died. So if someone can point me in the direction of how old she was and how long its been since, I'd appreciate it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What everyone has been waiting for, especially Jo and Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to get out. I had a rough couple weeks both at work and personal life. Without further ado...

Tossing his cards to the table, Sam stretched and yawned, glancing at the windows then his watch.  “I’m out.”

 

“You still owe me them shorts,” Jo countered with huge grin, gathering the cards from the table.  She was way over dressed, especially in comparison with the boys. Dean’s black t-shirt was over her softball shirt, with a thick layer of Sam’s flannels on top of everything else. Both the boys’ pants were draped over the back of her chair.  And the piece de resistance of her ensemble was Dean’s green and grey flannel, worn as a headscarf. 

 

Sam gave her a half-smile before standing up, fingering the waistband of his boxers, the last piece of clothing on his body. “I think I’m gonna escape with one shred of dignity,” he countered as he backed away from the table, winking at Jo as she was shuffling the deck. 

 

“Take the bed, Sam,” she insisted as he headed for the couch.  

 

He shook his shaggy head with a look of consternation.  “Nah, I’m good.”

 

“You really wanna lay there and attempt to sleep while your brother continues to try his best lines on me?” she smirked as Dean made a feeble attempt to look hurt.  When Sam opened his mouth to object again, Jo just shook her head, tossing him his sleep pants. “Stop. I promise I'll arm wrestle him for the couch in a bit. You’re too tall for it anyway.”  

 

With a nod and a jaw popping yawn, Sam acquiesced, slinging the pants over his shoulder. “Alright, don’t stay up too late.  We have a long drive tomorrow.” He gave his older brother a pointed look that Jo chose to ignore. 

 

He was ushered to the bedroom with a chorus of “Night, Sam.”  With a final wave, the door clicked, and the light was almost immediately turned off.   

 

Trying not to think too hard about any one thing, Jo forced herself to focus on the deck of cards she was shuffling. She especially did not think too hard about the unspoken tension between her and Dean, tension that only seemed to have grown over the past few hours with each hand of cards and lost item of clothing.  Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Dean-  _ mostly naked Dean _ \- lean his forearms and clasped hands on the table in front of him, his head tilted in a such a way that she knew he was looking at her.  She fought the smirk that threatened to spill across her face as the heat from their minor make-out session earlier moved from low simmer to a gentle boil just below the surface. 

 

After what seemed like an eternity of painful silent standoff, Dean cleared his throat and drew his hand over his chin.  “So....”

 

When he paused, Jo hazarded a glance at him, which was her undoing.  That hunger in his eyes she saw earlier was back ten fold as he flicked his tongue over his bottom lip.  “So...” she mimicked, pulling her eyes away from his and back to the cards in her hands. 

 

After another seemingly long silence, Dean slapped his hand on the table and abruptly stood up, gathering two handfuls of empty beer bottles by their necks.  He strode out of her view, walking into the kitchen behind her. With the echo of glass against glass, Jo heard the bottles hit the trash in a loud crash. 

 

Dean reappeared in her peripheral view to stand beside her chair, so close she could have sworn she felt the heat coming off of his skin through the three layers of cloth on her arm. Fighting every fiber in her body to not turn towards the literal man of her dreams standing there in nothing but his boxer shorts, Jo stifled a  shudder as she felt his flannel being pushed from her head. Jo’s eyes slipped closed as Dean’s hand gently stroked over her hair before he leaned down to gently kiss her forehead. After allowing his lips to linger there for a moment more, he gently tugged on her hair to make her tilt back as his mouth sought out hers. 

 

The neatly shuffled and stacked cards in Jo’s hands scattered across the tabletop as his lips grazed hers.  She couldn't help the soft sigh that escaped as she felt his hand slip down her back and settle low, just above her ass. With the barest of touches, he guided her out of the chair into a standing position in front of him, their lips never parting.  

 

Jo laid her hands on his chest as he kept his hand on her back, pulling her tight against him.  When he paused a moment to look down at her, she took the opportunity to watch his face, the smirk finally spilling onto her face as he graced her with his adorably crooked smile.  

 

“Hello, there,” he whispered, making her smile almost split her face in half and her heart flutter inside her chest, making her thankful her hands were between them to keep him from feeling it too.  She felt like a schoolgirl with a crush on the cutest boy in her class, making her cheeks flush. 

 

His eyes skidded from her gaze, settling on her lips as his finger tips grazed over her jaw.  Her eyes fell closed as he gently tipped her head back with one finger under her chin, his lips crushing against hers.  

 

As his other hand found its way to her hips, Jo slipped her fingers up into his hair, pulling his mouth closer, her tongue brushing against his bottom lip, pulling a hungry, dangerous sound from Dean's throat.  His hands clenched tightly against her hips, suddenly lifting her from her feet as she squealed softly. Instinctively, her arms and legs wrapped around him as he lifted her higher and settled her on the table top.  

 

Her legs fell from his hips as his lips moved to her chin, blazing a path up to her ear and turning every joint in her body to liquid heat. One hand anchored her hip in place as wedged himself firmly between her thighs, his other hand tangling in the hair at the nape of her neck.  Jo sighed loudly, and tilted her head to give him better access to her throat. 

 

One of her hands found its way under his arm and coursed over his back, nails flexing against his skin with each bite he placed on her neck. She felt him pulling at Sam’s flannels, peeling them from her shoulders as his teeth and tongue danced at the neckline of their combined t-shirts.   

 

“You’re wearing too many of Sammy’s clothes,” he groused against her skin.  

 

Jo let out a small laugh.  “Not my fault he’s no good at poker.”  She let her hand roam down his back, her fingers plucking at the elastic of his shorts.  “Then again, you’re no ace yourself, either.” Her nails drew designs on his skin, skirting her hand back up to his shoulder, the pads of her fingers tingling at the contact.  

 

Once the nuisance of Sam’s shirts had been removed, Dean licked up to Jo’s ear before he imparted one little secret.  “You think I didn’t throw some of those hands?” he whispered wickedly, before his fingers slipped under the hem of the tshirts she was wearing. “Knew you couldn’t resist me once you got a glimpse.” 

 

Not giving him any verbal answer, Jo sighed happily as he skimmed over her belly, the heat of his touch sending a jolt of arousal through her body.  She felt a sudden spike in the heat below her own waist band, and flexed her thighs, cradling his hips between her legs. Dean growled and responded in kind, letting her know she wasn’t the only one who was feeling the heat of their connection.  His hands suddenly abandoned her midriff and tangled in her hair again as he leaned her back over the tabletop, cradling her tight in his arms. Jo's hands wrapped around him tighter as she was certain he was going to lay her down. Instead he held her elevated over the table, his forearms under her shoulders, their chests and mouths were tight to the other, and Jo could feel every hard inch of Dean.  

 

She found herself silently cursing all the extra clothes she had donned during their poker match.  She wanted to feel Dean’s bare skin pressed to her own, not through two more t-shirts and her bra; nothing else would satisfy the bonfire roaring in her body.  She knew they would get there, but she was suddenly worried she might combust before she managed to strip down. 

 

As his teeth bit on her bottom lip, Dean moved her to lay flat on the table, his hands raking down her shoulders, over her sides, leaving red marks on her skin in their wake.   His mouth slipped lower on her body. His teeth glanced off her neck, and she was certain he was leaving more than a few marks as his stubbled face rubbed her skin raw. She cradled his head as he pressed his face to the front of her shirts, letting it slide down slowly to her belly.  As her back touched down on the hard surface, he nudged the hem up with his nose before taking a deep breath that Jo could both hear and feel against her overheated skin. 

 

She couldn't help her hips wiggling against him at the feel of his wet mouth below her bellybutton, she groaned softly as his tongue sketched maddening designs over her skin. Fingers tangling once more in his short hair, she fought the urge to push his head to her nether regions as his tongue danced briefly behind the button of her jeans.  

 

“You think Sam’s asleep yet?” she whispered, her voice husky, eyes closed.    

 

Without so much as a word, Dean paused, leaning his chin against her belly, his arms still under her, hands hooked over her shoulder.  He waited long enough for her to open her eyes and look at him. The look on his face was dark. “You really think you ought to be thinking about my little brother right now?” he asked, an eyebrow perched high on his forehead, his voice rough and almost dangerous.  

 

A thrill of anticipation ran up and down her spine like it was doing sprints, causing Jo to barely suppress a shudder as she ran her finger over his bottom lip and he bit at it.  “No, just afraid he will hear us.”

 

Instead of answering, Dean wrapped his mouth around her finger, drawing it into his mouth.  He caressed it with his tongue while staring into Jo’s eyes. The sensation of his teeth and tongue ran up her arm and shot straight down to her curling toes.  Her head dropped back, knocking against the table as her mouth fell open, and she couldn’t help the strangled groan that worked its way out of her throat with the next stroke of his tongue. In the next moment, though, he released her aching digit, and she nearly screamed in outrage at this unholy method of torture he was practicing on her.

 

“Why did you stop?!”

 

The combination of smirk and naked lust in his voice drove all other protests from her mind when he answered, “Was just thinkin’ about what other noises I could get you to make if that’s what you sound like when it’s just your finger.” 

 

Yanking his face back to hers and crushing their lips together, Sam’s discomfort was suddenly the last thing on her mind as Dean lifted her from the table, walking the two of them past the recliner. Her shirts miraculously disappeared along the way, leaving Jo in her bra and jeans.  

 

Their lips never parted as Dean placed one knee on the couch, leaning over to lay Jo down gently.  Jo didn't let go, tightening her legs around his hips, pulling him down with her. A chorus of groans sounded as he pressed himself along the seam of her jeans, making Jo feel even more desperate to feel Dean pressed tight to hers.  With his elbows on the cushion beside her shoulders, Dean’s fingers tangled tight in her hair. He kissed her hard, Jo squirming under him as she fought to keep him against her. With an impatient growl, Jo bit his bottom lip, almost hard enough to draw blood  Dean answered with his own guttural grunt, his hands tightening in her hair, holding her in place as he slowly drew back until his lip snapped from her teeth. Their eyes landed on each other and suddenly something shifted. 

 

Her mouth latched onto his throat, as she licked and sucked her way over his day old stubble. She thought he smelled good before, but the combination of scents coming off of his skin- sweat, beer, musk, and under it all something that was just so Dean- was driving her crazy.  She rolled her hips against him, looking for some friction, though all it did was make her more frustrated. She could taste his groan on the tip of her tongue pressed to his throat. One of Dean’s hands held her hip still as he ground down against her, driving her into the cushion.    

 

Jo released a low, primitive sound that reverberated against his collar bone. “Fuck,” she swore hoarsely, her words dried up until only the filthiest and harshest were left.  

 

She didn't even realize what she had said out loud until she heard him chuckle, and he dipped his head down to chase her lips.  “Workin’ on it, darlin’,” he mumbled, honey dripping from his tongue to coat her lips in promises.

 

With one flick of his wrist, her baby pink bra was loose, and his hands were under the cups.  His rough palms abraded her hypersensitive skin, making her squirm under him. He pinched her already hard nippples between his fingers and thumbs, making her hiss into his mouth.  

  
“I bet these taste amazing,” he commented, squeezing her tit gently before dipping his mouth to find out.  Jo bit her bottom lip as she threw the bra across the room, not caring where it landed as his lips wrapped around her aching nipple.  She signed happily as she felt his tongue strum over the peaked tip, sending little jolts through her system. 

 

“Dean,” she mumbled, hands in his hair, tightening in the short cropped strands.  He only hummed a response, making her groan louder as the sensation shot straight to her core.  “Dean,” she repeated, a little more force in her voice, until his lips suddenly switched to her other breast, this time adding his teeth to his magical ministrations.  

 

“Shit,” she breathed, her train of thought instantly derailing.  He was trying to kill her, that was the only possible explanation. Pulling on his head, she angled his lips back over hers as she sat up.  He allowed her to push him to his back, his head landing on the opposite end of the couch. His hands hung in the air, as she moved her lips from his and down his neck.  

 

“My turn,” she smirked, making him grin.  She nipped at his skin, determined to leave as many red marks on him as she was certain he had left on her.  Each one was met with a satisfying hiss from between his lips, making Jo smirk to herself. As she licked down his chest,  he gathered her hair up in his fist, fingers of the other hands combing through to gather it all into one hand. As she reached his sternum, she glanced up to find him propped up on his elbow, watching her with his mouth parted, his lips swollen and damp. Jo laid a line of nips along his rib, until she was at his side.  With a mischievous grin, she watched him as she stroked her tongue hard against his side, in the same spot she brushed earlier with her hands and realized he was ticklish.    
  
“Bitch,” Dean said with absolutely no malice in his voice as he gently yanked on her hair.  She acquiesced and kissed her way cross his belly, pausing just below his belly button to enjoy the solid male smell that came from his skin.  She took a deep breath and then kissed him there.    
  


She was rewarded with a twitch of his hips and him softly murmuring her name.  With his hand still in her hair, Jo glanced up at his face as her fingers hooked over the waistband of his shorts.   His eyes sprung open and fell on her face, making her smirk as she lifted the material up and over the length of him.  With a appreciative moan, Jo peeled the shorts down his thighs. She laid a kiss on his frenulum, making his cock jump and Dean’s hand to tighten in her hair.  Deeming his shorts no longer necessary, she tossed them to the side before kissing her way up his thighs. Dean sighed, his hand flexing in her hair. She could sense he wanted to pull her head but he was trying to restrain himself, letting her explore.  Jo ran the tip of her nose along where his thigh and hip met, as his cock brushed against her cheek. She glanced up at him as she wrapped her hand around his length, earning a louder groan. She slowly moved her hand over him, relishing the feel of his satin smooth skin, warm in her palm.  Dean’s head flopped back against the couch as he covered his eyes with his arm. She stroked him a few more times, and each time his hips moved with her hand. But it was when her lips brushed over the head of his dick that he sat up abruptly, pulling her up,crushing his lips over hers. 

 

“You do that, and this will be over quicker than either of us wants right now,” he growled against her mouth,  his hand reaching for the top button of her jeans. She grinned at the feel of his insistence, his hands making short work of her pants.  She raised up on to her knees as he pushed the jeans down her legs. She was kicking them loose when he dragged her into his lap, settling her over him.  She felt him hard against the thin, lacy panties she wore as he crushed their chests together Jo groaned loudly, rocking against him. 

 

“Fuck, Jo.” he hissed against her lips. His fingers dug into her skin, sliding down her body, over her back, down her sides.     

 

He grabbed her by her shoulders and lowered her back to the sofa.  Kissing his way down her chest gently as his hands lowered her panties down her thighs at the same pace.  Once the scrap of lace was tossed out of the way, Dean kissed down her belly. 

 

With a quick lick across her aching clit, Dean tried to abruptly stand.  Jo’s hands grabbed his arms before he could get far, her eyes opening in surprise, frustration and anger settling in quick.  

 

Dean grinned and pecked her mouth.  “I’ll be back, beautiful,” he mumbled softly against her tender lips.  Jo tried not to flush at his compliment. “I promise.” 

 

Jo relented and pouted, letting her arms fall from him as he gently pushed her leg to the side.  He winked at her as he stepped away. She watched him stride purposefully across the apartment. Her anger dampened some as she was able to take in every naked square inch of his body as he pulled his weapon duffle open on the table with an intent look on his face.  

 

“What the hell are you doing?” she asked as she flipped over on her belly to watch him better.  

 

Dean didn't answer. He just grunted as he stuffed his hand into the bag.  Jo couldn't imagine what he was looking for until he held up a familiar small silver packet in his palm.  “Thought I had ‘em in there.”

 

Jo felt herself blush, which was absurd considering five seconds ago she was all set to fuck Dean through the couch, but now a condom- well, actually,  **condoms** she realized as the blush deepened- was going to embarrass her.  

 

Dean either didn't notice or chose to ignore the new pallor of her skin as he strode over to the front door, killing the lights.  He was back at her side as quickly as he had left, his hand grazing up her thigh and hip to her ass. With help of the city lights from outside the windows, she watched him deposit the condoms on the coffee table as he kissed her shoulder blade.   Pressing her face to the pillow below her chin, Jo sighed happily at the scratch of his stubble and the feel of his lips back on her skin. 

 

“As much as I’d like to do this with the lights on,” he explained, his lips moving over the back of her neck, raising goose bumps all over her body. “Might be a good idea in case Sam wakes up.”  

 

Grabbing her by the hip, Dean flipped Jo over.  “Not much for free shows,” she admitted before pulling him back down with her.   

 

“Another time, another place, maybe,” he almost promised, making Jo’s brain swim at the prospect of this not just being a one time thing with him. But she managed to make it seem like she kept her wits about her.  “Maybe,” she echoed against his lips as she reached for one of the packets. 

 

“Done with foreplay?” he teased her before drawing a sharp breath as her hand covered his cock in the latex sheath.  

 

“Been done with it since you got out of the shower,” she admitted, running her fingers and palm over him, his hips stuttering against her ministrations.  

 

Dean settled on his knees between hers, his fingers smoothing over her soaked juncture.  “Well I did buy you dinner, after all,” he teased her, practically using her own words from earlier.   

 

“Yes, tiger, I suppose you did,” she admitted, sitting up and kissing him thoroughly as his fingers slipped inside of her, making Jo hum.  As her breaths started coming in pants, Jo leaned back and grabbed his ass, encouraging him closer. 

 

She felt him press against her, but not insistent enough for her preferences.  Choosing to be patient, Jo curled her fingers over his hips and watched his face as he inched his hips forward at a snail's pace.  As his gaze shifted to where they were joined, she caught a brief glimpse of his eyes, his pupils blown wide, eclipsing the irises with a darkness that stole her breath.  Jo moaned softly as her body accepted his length, her nails threatening to draw blood if he stopped, until he was seated deep within her. Her inner muscles clenched involuntarily, causing both of them to shudder in response.     
  
“Shit, sweatheart,” he muttered. His shoulders were tense with strain as he trembled above her. “You’re soaked.”

 

She smiled up at him.  “Just for you,” she whispered, his eyes falling open on hers.  She blushed as she realized what she said. Closing her eyes, she turned her head, willing herself to stop saying such juvenile things.  She needed to keep her shit together and not scare him away any faster than he was already going to disappear anyway. Despite her raging hormones and screaming labido, she fully intended to have no illusions that what she and Dean had would last longer than the small pile of condoms on the coffee table.

 

Dean drew his hips back before snapping them forward with a bit more force, ripping her out of her brain and back to the here and now. Her hands moved from his hips to his lower back, looking for better purchase as he began fucking her with more force.  His hand pressed down on her thigh toward the outer edge of the sofa, but her other one could only curl around the edge of the cushion of the sofa, giving her limited range of movement with her hips. Dean bit at the side of her neck where she left herself exposed as he drove deeper inside her, sending another thrill through her system as she rolled her hips to meet his every stroke.  The feel of his body against hers, under her hands, and filling her, sent sparks through her system, filling her with sensations she had never felt before, and part of her never wanted to let him go. 

 

With a deliciously wicked smile, Dean grabbed her shoulders, somehow managed to pull her up and over his lap as he sat on the couch, as if she weighed nothing at all.  Jo grinned down at him as she took control, watching his face closely. She rested her hands on the back of the sofa as his hands settled just below her tailbone. He allowed her free movement for a few minutes, letting her find the rhythm that worked best for her before he met her movements.  Dean pressed up to her, letting her chase her own pleasure, getting as much enjoyment out of watching her as feeling her. As Jo reached back, her hands leaning on his knees, she found the angle that shot sparks behind her eyelids and made her toes curl. Her head was arched back, and eyes partly closed, but not enough to miss him suck on the pad of his thumb before pressing it to her aching clit.  

 

“Dean,” she begged, softly not even sure what she was asking for.  

 

He smirked, his eyes dark and hooded, his other hand wrapped firmly around her hip.  “I gotcha, Jo. You gonna come for me?”

 

With the question barely past his lips, she hissed through her teeth as she realized she should try to stifle her loud moans, her body spinning over the precipice and headlong into a stellar orgasm.  Starting in her thighs and spreading out from there, her body vibrated with an uncontrollable shake, as her fingers dug into Dean’s thighs. As she came back down and she stilled in his lap, he encouraged her back into his embrace, allowing her panting breaths to slide across his neck.   

 

He laughed softly, brushing her hair from her face to lay soft stubble filled kisses on her temple.  “You in there?”

 

“Somewhere,” she mumbled, tingling all over, from her toes to the tip of her head.  She noticed that he didn’t press her any further even thought she could still feel him throbbing inside of her.  Once she got her wits back, she flexed her pussy around him, making him groan loudly, his head falling back on the sofa while his hips jerked up against her, making her hiss.  

 

Bringing her hands to his cheeks, Jo kissed him, softly at first, but then more insistent, making free use of teeth and tongue as her hips gently circled over him.  Dean’s hands gripped at her ass, trying to encourage her to move faster, a note of frustration sounding as he realized she wasn’t going to give him what he wanted. 

 

Without warning, he rose from the couch, making Jo yelp in surprise.  He carried her to an open spot of carpet and laid her down. Dean coursed his mouth down her neck, skimming over the side of one breast, licking its underside.  Jo whimpered and bucked under him, only to be rewarded with him withdrawing his cock from her body completely. As if he sensed her next move, he laid a strong hand on her shoulder keeping her from sitting up.  He licked and sucked over her belly, dancing down one thigh that quivered under his ministrations. 

 

As a moan was poised on the edge of her lips, Dean’s hand clamped down over Jo’s mouth.  Surprised she tried to sit up but his tense arm held her in place as Sam clumsily opened the bedroom door to stumble through the darkened apartment. Jo laid stunned as she felt Dean’s mouth slip lower, his lips suddenly encircling her clit.  Part of her wanted to push him away, tell him they should quit it or at least grab something to cover themselves with. But as they were briefly illuminated by the bathroom light before the door was shut, she saw the devilish glint in Dean’s eyes, and felt his tongue flicking over her making her whimper against his palm.  

 

With one hand over her mouth, the other held her leg open pinning her in place, Dean’s tongue floated through her folds.  Knowing that Sam was about to walk back into the room added gasoline to the fire Dean’s tongue was stoking through Jo’s body.  Her fingers dug into his hair, pulling him closer to her cunt. As she felt him growl against her sensitive skin, she shifted her mouth to catch one of his fingers between her lips.  Her tongue stroked the digit in time with his tongues movements against her clit, her teeth holding it in place. 

 

As the light from the bathroom briefly lightened the room again, Jo watched Sam closely, realizing the light had kept him from being able to see anything in the darkened room including his brother pinning her to the floor.  Disappearing as quickly as he appeared, Sam was again a fleeting thought in her mind as Dean quickly added two fingers inside her to the mix. Jo moaned louder, and tightened her fingers in his already disheveled hair a split second before she was coming again.  

 

With a wicked smirk and his fingers still buried deep in her, Dean moved back up her body, sliding his skin over hers, every square inch of him skidding over her.  He sealed his lips over hers, his tongue pushing into her mouth as he snapped his hips forward, replacing his fingers with his cock. 

 

Drawing her legs up his, Jo’s knees settled along his ribs, her toes curling over his hip bone, as her fingers scrubbed through the hair on the back of his head, and her breath pants across his mouth.  Each calloused hand skimmed over her calf, making her hold her breath at the added sensation. Wrapping his hands around the arches of her feet, he pulled them behind him, pushing her knees back as he moved up her thighs.  Dean slid his hands up her sides, under her shoulder blades, his nails grazing along her skin, causing her to arch with a sweet moan as he devoured her neck. His hands hooked over her shoulders, anchoring her tiny frame to his as he thrust deeper into her.  

 

Jo whimpered louder, her head falling back against the carpet, her eyes closing at the sensations Dean was filling her with.  She had never been fucked so thoroughly before. Every part of her was thrilled by each brush of Dean’s hand, every sweep of his lips.  She felt her toes curl, and she cutched desperately, never wanting to let him go.

 

“Look at me,” Dean commanded, his voice rough and primal.  Jo’s eyes snapped open, focusing on the face above hers. Their eyes met, and Jo could not fight the feeling she had found home, where she had ached so long to find, swimming in his eyes.  Dean brushed his lips against hers before burying his head in her neck, bucking against his completion. Jo’s arms held him tight as she felt his body slowly relax against her, her own trembling through another climax.   

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much Love to marksmanfem or holding my hand, giving me a solid edit and being awesome.


	5. Stranglehold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter! Winchesters take Jo on a marathon cross country trip to get her back to Ellen after "No Exit."

A throat clearing stirred the couple tangled together on the couch. Laying essentially on top of him,  Jo nuzzled into Dean’s neck, her hand hooking over his far shoulder, flattening her chest to his instinctively before cracking open one eye to look up at Sam.  Dean stretched under her with a soft groan, wrapping his arms tighter around her, pulling the blanket to cover her a bit more. “Come back in a couple hours, Sammy.”  Jo didn’t need to see him to know his eyes stayed closed as he settled his nose against the top of her head.

“I’d love to,” Sam countered, no nonsense filling his voice.  “But we have to get Jo back to Ellen before she goes all Momma Bear and comes kill us all. Especially you, Dean.”

She felt him smirk into her hair.  “Can’t imagine what you are talking about, Sammy.”  

With a snort, she heard Sam move toward the door.  “I’m gonna go get coffee,” he called as he headed out.  “Meet you at the car in ten.”

As the lock set in place, Jo stirred a little more.  “Guess that means we should think about getting up.”

Dean’s arms flexed around her before he laid a kiss on top of her head.  “Yeah, I suppose. Sammy Goody Two Shoes better be getting us all coffee.”  Letting her sit up first, Dean threw his legs to the floor before scraping his fingers over his face and head.  With a sleepy smile, he looked at Jo. She wore nothing but the blanket and suddenly felt even more naked than she did last night.  Dean, however, didn't seem to notice. He scooped her jeans off the floor and tossed them in her general direction as he stood up, tugging his boxers over his hips before beginning a slow shuffle across the room, gathering and sorting clothes as he wandered.  By the time he reached the duffel bag on the table, he was mostly dressed, and her clothes were all strewn across the couch.

Watching him tug his jeans into place, Jo snapped back to reality.  Still wrapped in her blanket, she walked toward the bedroom with her clothes in hand.  After laying them on the bed and half-closing the door, Jo one-handedly tossed her bag on the mattress while clutching the blanket to her like it was some sort of life line. She was out of clean clothes, she realized; at least she had one pair of underwear left. Maybe with that and a little deodorant, her mom wouldn't notice she smelled like marathon sex.  

With a small snort, Jo realized she was more likely to smell like a road trip by the time they made it back to Nebraska; fast food, spilled coffee, gasoline, testosterone, and general uncleanliness did not make for a pleasant perfume.  Hopefully, the odor of the road would help mask the smell she was certain she didn’t want to shower off. 

Jo shook her head and dropped the blanket before tugging on her last clean pair of panties.  She needed to let these stupid fantasies about Dean go. Last night was good, a little too good if she was honest with herself, and she just needed to let him go.  He would be the first to tell her this wasn't going to work out between them. She was just a one night stand to him. She shrugged as she pulled her jeans on. Maybe they would hook up again someday if they were hunting near each other, or if he headed through Nebraska chasing something.  But that was as far as this was going to go.

 A sharp knock sounded against the door frame, making her jump.  Jo’s head snapped up to look at Dean in the door as she buttoned up her shirt.  “Shit, I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he smiled softly. “You ready to go? I’m sure Sam is chomping at the bit down there.”

 With a quick nod, she zipped her bag closed and tossed it over her shoulder before trying to push past him.  

 “Hey,” he mumbled, blocking her path.  “You ok? We ok?”

 Jo looked up at him with what she hoped was a convincing smile.  “Yeah. Of course,” she lied. With what little bravado she could muster, she kissed his cheek.

 <><><><><><><><><><

 The interior of the car was painfully silent and awkward as Jo fiddled with her cuticles in the back seat, staring out the window at the mountains in southern Pennsylvania as Dean hurtled them towards Ohio.  Sam found in necessary to glance back and forth between her and Dean, as if he was assessing what happened last night between them but not bothering to asking them anything. It was as if he was waiting for them to speak first.  

 Dean on the other hand was working hard at ignoring Sam, his eyes never straying to the passenger seat.  Occasionally, though, Jo caught him watching her in the rear view mirror, making her blush and look away quickly.  Just as she was about to lose her mind with the tension, Dean flipped on the radio and she almost thanked him. Until she listened to the lyrics.  

_Ooh, I want you to stay_ _  
Ooh, I want you today_

“Jesus,” Jo swore louder than she intended.  As soon as it escaped her lips, Sam gave her a disapprovingly knowing look over his shoulder, making her slump in her seat.

  
_I'm ready for love_ _  
Oh baby, I'm ready for love_

She couldn't help her eyes searching for Dean’s in the mirror.  She should have been expecting the eye-crinkling smirk of his, which made her want to crawl under the seat all together.  It was going to be a long 20 hour drive back to the Roadhouse. 

<><><><><><><><><><

 “Jo!” Sam called from across the gas station later that day as she reached for the backdoor of the Impala with her snacks in hand.  She looked up at him, watching him cross the blacktop in just a few long legged strides. “Take shotgun,” he insisted. Jo opened her mouth to protest, but he shook his head before running his hand through his hair, his eyes flicking to the setting sun on the horizon.  “Keep Dean awake for me. I wanna stretch out and get some decent sleep before he needs me to take over.”

 Jo raised her eyebrow and looked at the back seat dubiously. “You actually gonna be comfy back there?”

 “He’s fit back there fine,” Dean offered with a smirk as he returned to the car, heading for the driver’s side door. “Even with company.”

 Jo’s eyes lit up as she watched Sam blush and run his hands through his hair, glaring at his brother.  “There’s a story there,” she said with glee dripping from her lips.

 “No, there isn’t,” Sam insisted quickly before opening the door and climbing in, slamming the door.    
  
Dean stuck his head in the open window. “Worse places to lose your virginity,” he teased as Sam laid down on his side, facing the back of the seat.  With a huff, he tossed his jacket over himself and tucked his arm under his head, ignoring them both.

 Jo was trying to hold back her giggles as she slid into the copilot spot.  As Dean got in, she settled her road food on the floor at her feet before taking his supplies from his outstretched hand.  “Thanks, sweetheart,” he muttered around the Twizzlers hanging from his mouth. Jo could feel herself flush and hoped the setting Illinois sun would hide the color from Dean’s notice as he started the car.

A few hours later, the sun had long since set by the time Jo tried to hide another yawn behind her hand, head turned toward the window as a sign declaring they had just entered the “Show Me State” whizzed by at 90 miles per hour.  “Tired?” Dean asked, and she could hear the smile in his voice.   
  
“Nah,” she insisted, stretching in the seat and reaching for her soda between her feet on the floor board.   

“You may have a great poker face,” Dean teased, “but you are a crappy liar.”

 Shrugging, Jo just took a drink, not really wanting to admit she was tired; Sam’s soft snores from the back seat were not helping her at all.  Missouri meant they were more than halfway to Nebraska, but they were still another 8 hours or so from the Roadhouse. No way she would be able to stay awake that much longer, much less keep the boys awake.

Dean tugged on her arm after she deposited her soda on the floor.  She glanced over at him, his face illuminated only by the lights on the dash, the headlights from the oncoming traffic too far across the median to be of any help.  “Why don't you lay down and take a nap?” Dean suggested, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. “You aren’t any good to anyone if you can’t keep your eyes open.”

 Rubbing her eyes, Jo hesitated again, wondering if she should wake Sam up first, so someone was awake with Dean.  “I’m a big boy,” he said, as if he read her mind, patting his thigh. “I promise I’ll pull over if I get too tired.”  His finger made a cross over his heart, making her softly snort.

 “Alright,” Jo relented, kicking her shoes to the floor and settling on the seat and laying her head on his leg.  “But you crash and kill me, and my mother will come and kill you.”

 “I’m aware; we wouldn’t be pulling an all-nighter just to get you home in the first place if her homicidal instincts weren’t already on red alert.”  Dean stroked his fingers through the hair on the side of her head as she tucked her legs up on the seat, setting her toes against the door arm. “I’ll be fine. Now get some shut eye,” he said as he flicked the radio on low before his fingers found their way back into her hair.   

Jo’s eyes closed as Nugent’s guitar and voice hit her ears.  She smiled softly as Dean began singing along, making this the oddest lulluby ever.    


_Got you in a stranglehold baby_   
_You best get out of the way_   
_The road I cruise is a bitch now baby_   
_You know you can't turn me 'round_   
_And if a house gets in my way baby_   
_You know I'll burn it down_   
_You remember the night that you left me_ _  
You put me in my place_

Jo was out before Ted’s solo, and it wasn't a subtle slow meander into sleep: it was as if the floor fell out from under her and she plummeted head long into sleep’s waiting arms.  

She should have known she was dreaming.  Nothing made sense, but sometimes hunts didn’t make sense, her brain reasoned. She was hunting, her knife firmly gripped in her hand along with a gun in her other.  It was dark, she was outside. Why was she out in the open at night if she was hunting werewolves?

Jo looked around and realized she was _caught in the middle of a railroad track._  Wait, her heart jumped into her throat.  Was she bait again??

She could hear the train coming but couldn’t see it.  She heard it rumble against the tracks, or was that _thunder_ in the distance?  Panicking, she realized it wasn't a good omen. Jo looked around and saw Dean and Sam at the edge of the woods further down the tracks.  But she knew somehow _there was no help, no no help from_ them.  As she struggled to get her feet moving, she heard the _thunder_ of guns making her look back at the boys.  

 Only she was no longer near railroad tracks, or even outside.  Jo was in some dark bar, a sleazy bar, which is saying something considering she worked and lived at the Roadhouse.  As she took in the shadowy interior, looking for the Winchesters, Jo realized she was dressed in a floor length spaghetti strapped black dress that clung to her in all the right places and left little to the imagination.  Sliding her hands over the slinky dark material searching for a weapon, she found the dress was ruched across her ass but was smooth down the front. By the breeze she felt from her ankles to knees with each high heeled step, she assumed there was a slit back there.  

Jo felt ridiculously vulnerable; these were hardly hunting clothes.  Even if it was made of flannel or military green, the materials prefered by most of the hunters in her life, the construction of the dress provided next to no protection against anything.  She held a foot out in front of herself, pulling the skirt up enough to show what she judged to be 4-5 inch stilettos on her feet. Well at least she could stab whatever they were hunting once it or her skirt tripped her!

With an anxious sigh, Jo swept her hair back from her face with her left pinky and searched the room for Dean and Sam.  She could hear Dean singing along with the song that was playing over the speakers. “ _Saturday night I was downtown,Working for the F.B.I_.”   He had to be close; his voice whispered the words right next to her, but every time she turned around she found he wasn't there.

Trying to shake her building anxiety, Jo wandered to the bar, settling her hand on the polished surface.  Even though it wasn't her bar, it still helped her focus. If the bartender in his dark dress shirt and no tie was worth half his salt, she could find any number of weapons behind his bar, and that thought helped calm Jo immensely.  

Stacked like a bizarre house of cards, there were an assortment of whiskey bottles all over the bar, some empty and some not.  Jack, Jim, Johnnie, Bushmills, Jameson, Glenfiddich, Maker’s, and Wild Turkey. She didn't need to see the labels, she could tell them all by the shape of the bottles, and she absently counted off how much a shot of each would cost as she walked along the bar, running her fingers over the smooth wooden surface.  

Jo spotted who she was looking for at the corner table.  Sam and Dean were dressed in their feds suits minus their jackets, ties hung loosened but not undone around their necks.  They were playing poker with some seedy looking fellows. She paused to admire the view, watching Dean’s arm flex under the crisp white of his rolled-to-the-elbow shirt as he raised a lass to his lips.  As he brought the glass down, their eyes met, and he winked at her.

Grabbing the bottle of Johnnie Blue that appeared near her hand, she took a slow deliberate path to their table, knowing Dean’s eyes were on her.   Sam barely looked up from his cards as she leaned over to fill his glass first, then slid her fingers across his long shoulders on her way by. He turned to his brother and said “ _I hope that you’re able, boy_.”  

“ _Well I’m telling you she knows where it's at,_ ” Dean assured his brother as he held his glass out to her, and Jo obliged with a long pour.  

Suddenly, a siren cut through the room, and chaos filled the room a split second before she heard the crack of a gunshot.  Jo ducked behind the suddenly overturned table, settling between suddenly armed Sam and Dean. The eldest brother slid his hand down the low cut of the back of her dress and produced a pistol.  Handing it to her, he glanced over the table as bullets struck furniture all around them. As she pulled the slide back to ensure her gun was loaded, he squeezed her hand and said “ _Don't get scared. Cause you're gonna be spared_.” 

The chaos consumed them, purple smoke filling the spaces between bodies.  She could feel Dean’s hand stroking her neck and could hear him and Sam tersely talking, but her panic made a mess of her brain, and she couldn’t comprehend what they were saying.  She tried to focus on their voices to remind herself of their location so she wouldn’t shoot them in the pandemonium that surrounded the trio. 

She blinked, trying to clear her eyes of the smoke, and s, she found herself in Dean’s arms., The haze, the guns, and Sam nowhere to be found.  Whipping her head around, she tried to figure out where they were as Dean led her smoothly around a dance floor that wasn't a dance floor. Dean quietly shushed her, his hand running up the length of her bare arm.  “I gotcha. You’re fine,” he said assuredly. As the panic from the other dream dissipated, Jo relaxed a little, and took in that they were surrounded by horses, which were just outside the stone floor they were dancing on.  Horses of all colors, but most are white and muted grey, grazed around them, none wearing any tack or saddles. And in the distance was a beach, and the ocean. 

This made even less sense than everything else that had happened so far. But this was Dean holding her, dancing with her as if neither of them had a worry in the world, and suddenly she realized that she didn’t want to care about the weirdness anymore. 

Jo closed her eyes and focused on the feel of Dean pressed to her, his lips on her neck, smoothing soft kisses over her skin.  When she opened them, he now held her in the middle of a cabin, a fire burning bright in the fireplace. She could see snow sparkling in the moonlight outside the windows before Dean pulled away to look at her.   _His eyes_ _seemed to go right through her_.    
  
“ _Come on home, girl_ ,” _he said with a smile.  “You don’t have to love me yet.”_  

Jo’s heart pounded in her throat as she wanted to respond that she did love him, but she tried to _understand he was a magic man_.  She shook her head and realized that made no sense either; if he had magic, then did she need to figure out if he needed to be hunted and killed?

 No, she wasn’t on a hunt, she was...  

 All reason and sense flew out of her mind as his lips brushed hers, and she felt his hands slide the dress off her shoulders.  Jo allowed the silken material to drop to her feet before pressing her naked body against him. The pads of his fingers coursed over her arms and sides, making her shiver.   

She heard her cell phone ring in the distance, but she couldn't be bothered to answer it as Dean’s hands glided over her ass and pulled her closer, _letting this spell last foreve_ r.  She moaned into his mouth as his fingers dug into her flesh, and his tongue stroked over hers.  Jo clung to him as she heard her mother’s voice. _"Come on home, girl,"_ Ellen cried on the phone. _"Too soon to lose my baby yet, my girl should be at home!"_

Either Dean didn't hear her mother, or he didn't care as he encouraged Jo closer to the bed by the fireplace.  With the snap of his fingers, the lights blinked off, and they were left with just the light from the flames. Jo pushed at his shirt, pulling it from his body, tossing it who cared where.  Her fingers smoothed over his chest, making them both sigh. Dean took both of her hands in his, and held them out to the sides of their bodies, his eyes dancing over her face. His crooked smile was back, and she had no choice but to return his grin, butterflies twisting in her stomach as he crowded into her space, placing their hands behind his back, drawing her closer. 

Leaving her hands at the small of his back, Dean cradled Jo’s cheek with his hand, making her eyes fall closed as he whispered her name across her lips.  Her fingers flexed against his skin as she whimpered at the sound of his voice. Kissing down her cheek, Dean moved his mouth along the sensitive chord on her neck, making her cry out softly as he laid her back on the bed.   He came with her, dwarfing her with his size. She ran her hands across his shoulders, marveling at the feel of them under her hands. She moaned his name , making him chuckle from the hollow between her breasts.

Following the planes of his body, Jo’s hands found their way under his shorts, grabbing his ass, and pulling him tight between her thighs, grinding him to her.  Suddenly, in the abrupt manner of dreams, the last vestiges of clothing between them vanished, and she gasped aloud as his skin slid over hers. He hooked a hand under her knee, drawing her leg gently over his shoulder, stretching her wide open beneath him. Jo groaned as she felt him slide into her. 

With a stretch and a soft moan, Jo opened her eyes and quickly realized where she actually was.  She froze in absolute horror. She wasn't in bed with Dean in some cabin in the middle of nowhere; she was lying across the front seat of the Impala, head in his lap, apparently emitting sex noises in her sleep.  A soft guitar was playing on the radio, and Sam’s snores sounded from the back seat. 

“Darlin,” Dean drawled when he realized she was awake, his fingers still in her hair.  “No idea what you were dreaming about, but it sounded pretty damned fantastic.” 

Jo bit her lip and fought against yet another round of blushes as she stretched.  Her head slid back on his thigh, and she froze as she felt something firm pressed to the back of her head.  “That’s not your gun is it?” 

He gave one quick bark of laughter, before stroking his fingers from her hair down her neck, making Jo’s eyes flutter shut as she arched into his touch, almost purring at the sensations mixed with the left overs from her dream.  “But it **is** loaded,” he muttered.  

That blush she had tried to keep from her cheek filled her full face as his hand coasted down her shoulder to bare skin along her collarbone. Dean’s fingers drew lazy patterns before his hand slid back up to her neck. 

With a determined sigh, Jo sat up to tuck her hair into a ponytail as Dean whined softly at sudden her departure. “Patience,” she whispered, nuzzling her nose against the shell of his ear as she finished with her hair.  With a glance at the sleeping form in the back seat, Jo lowered her head back down into Dean’s lap and slid her right arm across his thigh.  He licked his lips and looked at her after a quick glance in the rear-view mirror. Her fingers found their way under his shirts and danced over his belly until they found his belt.  Dean let out a tortured groan. Before she could talk herself out of it, she slid the leather free from the buckle and was rewarded by a low growl as she undid the button on his jeans.   

Jo slowly slid the zipper down, each tooth through the slider sending a tingle through her body.  Reaching the bottom, she felt Dean shift his hips as he reached down to help her safely pull his dick free of his pants.  Before he could even return his hand to the wheel, Jo’s lips and tongue traced every inch of the underside of his length, her hand holding him at the root.  She could have sworn she heard his teeth grinding, and the creak of leather sounded as his fingers tightened on the steering wheel. After swirling her tongue around the head in a slow, deliberate circle, Jo guided him between her lips as she slowly worked  his cock completely into her mouth. She hummed in victory as she allowed him to brush against the back of her throat. 

Already familiar with his weight and feel, Jo allowed herself to savor the tastes of Dean as she slowly drew her mouth back up his shaft.  She realized, as she caught a familiar scent, she was also tasting herself. They hadn't had any time this morning to clean up from their nocturnal activities before Sam had them hauling ass out of Philly.  

 Though this shouldn't have turned her on more, Jo found her legs pressing together greedily.  Her tongue danced over the slick skin in her mouth, sliding down until he was pressed to the back of her throat again.  When she swallowed around him, she heard Dean stifle a groan as his hand tangled in the hair on the back of her head. Holding her in place, he flexed his hips, making her gag just a tiny bit before he pulled back.  

 “Shit,” he muttered softly, as the car began to pick up more speed. 

“Everything alright?” Sam’s sleepy voice came from the back seat, making Jo freeze, her heart pounding.  Her brain was already trying for a plausible excuse when she saw Sam’s hand curled around the back of the seat.    
  
“Everything’s fine, Sammy,” Dean growled through clenched teeth, his hand moving back to the wheel as he glanced in the mirror.  “Go back to sleep. I just need to find a rest area.” 

Jo could almost hear Sam’s head rattle as he settled back on the seat.  “Sounds good. Wake me when you find one.”

 The snores almost started back immediately, much to Jo’s relief. Settling her mouth back over Dean, Jo bobbed her head, keeping her hand tight around the base his shaft.  Baby swerved to the left before suddenly purring loudly, picking up speed. Jo couldn't see what Dean was doing, but the thought of her ministrations making his lead foot heavier made her feel heady.  It served to make her work harder, while also hoping this didn’t get them all killed.

 Dean’s hand tangled into her hair where it was gathered in the pony tail holder, his short nails scraping against her scalp.  She felt him fight the urge to thrust into her mouth again, making her smile and increase her hold on him. Matching her mouth’s movement with her hand, Jo’s tongue stroked over the head, tickling just behind it, and was rewarding with a harsh exhalation from above her.  

 Scoring her teeth over his sensitive skin, Jo felt Dean’s fingers tighten in her hair as he let his foot up off of the gas pedal.  The car slowed as she felt the first taste of him splashing against her tongue as Dean fought the sounds she heard him make last night. Resisting the urge to grin, Jo pumped her hand in a circular motion up his shaft, milking every drop into her waiting mouth  She licked him until she was certain he was clean and he began to soften between her lips.

 At his insistent hair pulling, Jo sat up, facing him.  Turning his head, but eyes not fully leaving the road, Dean crushed his lips hard to hers before sliding Baby into the middle lane of the highway, increasing her speed  With a small nip on his delicious bottom lip, Jo settled back in the passenger seat, pressing her thighs closed and wiggling a little as she did so. She was so aroused she didn't know what to do with herself.  

 Jo’s eyes slipped shut, but not from exhaustion. Without the sight of Dean right next to her, she could be a little braver.  Stretching her legs out in front of her, Jo slumped in the seat to hide herself from Sam’s view, just in case. Her hand moved hungrily, roaming over her collarbone where Dean’s fingers had brushed earlier, sliding over the line of buttons on her shirt resting between her breasts, moving down over her belly until they reached the bottom of her shirt.  She lifted the hem just a little, allowing her fingers explore her skin, skimming one finger below the waistband of her jeans. As she popped the button open, Dean’s hand landed on hers as the car increased speed again. He pulled her hand away, twining their fingers on the center of the seat. “Leave that for me,” he told her, his voice rough, though his eyes never strayed from the road. She whined softly, wanting to protest until he pointed his chin to the sign outside her window.   

“Rest Area 1 mile.” 

That singular mile seemed to last for an hour as Jo practically vibrated with need, her hand tight in Dean’s.  Finally the exit sign came into view and with a loud horn from the car behind them that Dean cut off, he sped onto the ramp and then slammed on the breaks as he pulled into the first parking spot he could find.  

 “Don't wait up,” Dean barked at a confused, not-fully-awake Sam who sat up abruptly as they pushed their doors open.  He strode determinedly around the front of the Impala and grabbed Jo by the hip as she straightened, stretching her back. He dragged her to him, heading off into the shadowy depths of the highway rest stop. The two didn't even wait for Sam’s answer before disappearing from view. As soon as they rounded the back of the building, Dean yanked Jo to him, her face caught in his iron grip, sealing his lips over hers. Jo’s hands wrapped around his wrists as she kissed him with as much vigor.  He backed her into the rough exterior of the building. Grabbing his hips, she pulled him close to her, letting her curves cleave to him as his hands coursed over her shoulders down her sides to reach for her hips. With a sharp bite on her bottom lip, Dean had her jeans open, his hand covering her soaked panties, pressing one finger over her opening. 

“Fuck,” she whined, eyes falling closed as his teeth scored over the sensitive skin of her neck. Her hips thrust boldly against his hand as her head fell back against the wall with an audible thunk. 

She felt more than heard Dean’s laugh against her collarbone. He made quick work of her jeans, yanking them off impatiently before his hand was back on her panties, pressing, teasing, making her whine.  Hooking his hands under her thighs, Dean slid her up his body, leaving her trapped between him and the building. Her legs were around his ribs and Jo took advantage of being above him as she settled her arms on his shoulders and leaned down to attack his pouty lips.  She hummed happily as his fingers dug into her flesh. Suddenly, without warning, his hands slipped from her back to under her arms and she found herself lifted higher. Her ass rested precariously on the tiniest window ledge imaginable as he settled his legs over her shoulders. 

“Dean?” she whispered, confused for a brief second. He winked and bent his face down, and then  she felt him lick the inside of her left thigh as his arms curled around her thighs to hold her in place.  “Oh, God,” she mumbled, leaning her head back against the frosted glass of the window as his mouth, tongue, and stubble moved up her thigh, sending electrifying tremors through her body.  One of her hands found its way into his hair, stroking through the short tresses until they were at the back of his head. Dean’s mouth teased her through the cotton barrier, humming against her, tongue searching to press the cloth between her folds, making her moan loudly as he pressed at her entrance.   

Suddenly the cloth was pushed aside, and Dean groaned as his tongue landed hot along her slicked folds.  Jo’s breath caught in her throat as he circled her clit before sucking on it in earnest. Her body stiffened, her fingers clenching in his hair as he flicked his tip of his tongue against her tiny nub.  Her back arched as she tried to push her hips closer to his mouth without removing herself from the window ledge, seeking out more pressure from his mouth, but his arms denied her any movement, keeping her anchored in place.   

The rest of the world melted away into the darkness as Dean slid a finger into her.  It didn't reach far, just enough to rub against the spot that set fireworks off behind Jo’s eyes.  It wasn't long before the combination of his mouth and finger had her panting and shivering against him.  Dean never even struggled as he held her in place, his other hand landing on her belly to keep her still until she was cursing and growling at her release. Her fingers dug into his hair, her nails cutting into his scalp, but she was beyond caring as every nerve in her body popped and fizzed.   

As Jo’s body relaxed against him, she curled her arms around his head, and she leaned down to press her face into his hair, her own falling around them both like a blonde curtain.  “Jesus, you are good at that,” she mumbled, earning a soft chuckle. 

Dean pushed her shirt up and kissed her belly, his forearm holding her tight to the building, making her sit up straighter. Jo heard the unmistakable jingle of Dean's belt and zipper opening, making the fog in her brain clear a little more.  
  
His hands hooked under her arms, lowering her slowly down the building side. As Jo's lips were within striking distance of his, Dean seized them roughly, his tongue invading her mouth. Initially caught off guard, Jo wrapped herself around him, passionately matching his kiss until she tasted blood.   
  
Dean forcefully restrained Jo, his body and hands keeping her against the building. She felt his cock hard pressed between her legs, seeking entrance, making her whine and roll her hips against him, trying to settle herself over him.   
  
With a feral growl from deep in his chest, he sheathed himself in her in one swift stroke that made Jo cry loudly into his mouth. When she felt him move away to check on her, certain he thought he hurt her, she tightened her limbs and flexed herself around him, drawing another growl from him as he pulled his hips back a fraction of an inch before pressing into her hard. Jo mewled at the feel of him, the border between pleasure and pain blurring.  

Dean curled one hand over her hip while the other landed on the building by her head.  Jo could hear the grit under his fingers and palm as he slammed into her, jarring her against the wall.  Grasping at fists full of black shirt and flannel, Jo held on for the ride, the friction quickly building in her as if he hadn’t just gotten her off less than 3 minutes before.   Ripping her mouth from his, she tucked her head into his shoulder, biting on his shirt to try to keep her noises to a minimum as she felt another orgasm run through her, making her cling tight to him as she shook, listening to him pant against her ear.   

With both hands on her hips, Dean held her tight to him as he jerked, growling in her ear as he found his own second release.  They trembled together as he relaxed against the wall holding them up. Slowly coming back to reality, Jo leaned her head back, gasping for air as Dean’s forehead landed on her shoulder.  They stood silently a few moments, trying to gather themselves until Jo’s hips started to ache. Unlocking her ankles, she lowered her legs to the ground. Lifting his head and watching her, Dean held her firm while she tested her feet and legs that tingled and wobbled uncertainly.  Once she was sure she could stand, she smiled shyly at him as she reached for her jeans. 

He wiped a hand across the gloss that painted the the lower half of his face.  He held her gaze as he sucked what was left of her juices from his fingers and palm, making her stand with her pants at her knees and gawk at him.  Was there anything the man did that wasn't sexy as hell? she wondered to herself.   

“You need some help there?” he teased, crowding into her space again, pressing her against the building before reaching for her cheeks and barely brushing his lips against hers.  She slid her hands under his arms to curl up and over his shoulders. She silently cursed the sudden, errant thought that this was right where she wanted to be for the rest of her days.  It wasn't the first time the thought filled her brain, and she knew it was stupid, but she allowed herself the briefest of fantasies before shutting the delusion down. She had to get her brain on straight before he dropped her off at the Roadhouse in a few hours. 

Dean pulled back, but kept his hands on her cheeks, his eyes searching hers in the dark.  “We good?” he asked as if he could read her mind. 

Schooling her face to hide her thoughts, she nodded and leaned in for another quick kiss before releasing him and stepping back.  “Yeah.” 

“Good.”   

After she had her pants back on correctly, Dean grabbed her hand, striding quickly to the car.  Pulling open the back door, he grabbed Sam’s foot, giving it a rough shake. “Yer up, Sammy.” He started pulling on the foot in his hand, making his little brother kick at him.  Jo stepped back behind the door, staying out of striking distance if this turned into a tussle. 

“Knock it off; I’m up!” Sam growled, throwing his flannel to the floor with a sweep of his arms.  He slid to the end of the seat and stood, stretching as Dean held the keys in front of his face, less than two inches from his nose.  “I got it,” Sam snapped, snatching them from his brother’s hand. 

Dean slapped his shoulder and pushed him out of the way, sliding into the back seat and pulling Jo in with him.  She gave Sam a soft, unsure smile as she got in, pulling the door shut behind her. Dean already had commandeered Sam’s flannel as a pillow and laid on his side, holding his arm out for her to tuck under.  Jo found it frustratingly easy to find a comfortable spot next to him, their bodies seeming to have been made to fit together on this seat. Kicking her shoes to the floor, she tucked her foot between his calves, settled her head on his flannel covered elbow, and twined her fingers between his over her stomach.  She was certain they were asleep before Sam even had the Impala up to speed on the highway.

 <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Jo blinked awake when she realized the car had stopped.  She sat up and looked around, squinting into the rising sun. “Why are we stopped here?” she asked softly with a yawn.  They were at a travel plaza less than 15 miles from the Roadhouse.

Sam pushed open the driver’s door and glanced at her over his shoulder.  “Thought maybe you’d prefer not to climb out of the backseat with Dean with your mom watching,” he offered with a noncommittal shrug.

Seeing his logic, Jo nodded and pushed out of Dean’s arms, crawling out of the back.  Dean still snored across the seat, his arms landing across his chest, hugging the flannel that had covered them both.  She closed the door quietly and followed Sam into the store, heading straight for the ladies’ room. One glance at herself in the mirror and she quickly realized she owed Sam big time.  She looked like she had been ridden hard and put away wet, which was more true than not. Ten minutes, a hair tie, some mints, and a half a cup of coffee later, Jo joined the boys at the car.  She had to bite back a laugh at Dean’s crumpled form leaning against the front fender next to his brother, sipping on his own paper cup of life giving liquid.

“We good?” he asked.  Jo nodded, before settling in the seat behind Sam with her cup in hand.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

 

Jo willed herself to stay stock still, one ass cheek settled on the edge of the bar stool next to where her mom stood.  “Stay safe, guys” 

“Thanks again, boys, for bringing my girl home safe,” Ellen said, wrapping her arm around Jo’s shoulders.  She may have fooled the Winchesters, but Jo knew her mother was going to read her the riot act as soon as they left.  

Sam waved as he headed to the door first.  “Any time. Glad to help.”

Dean’s eyes locked with Jo’s for a second before he nodded to the women and walked out of the bar behind his brother. Jo felt herself deflate a little.  Not that she expected some sort of grand goodbye; her brain told her that was never happen. She needed to pry her heart out of this mess. Dean Winchester was never going to measure up to the fantasy she constructed in her head,and the sooner she made herself realize that, the better off she would be.  Grabbing her bag, she made an excuse to her mom and tried to head off to shower and sleep.

 “Jo,” Ellen started, grabbing her elbow on the way by.  Her mom’s ominous voice left no room for argument “We need to talk.”

 <><><><><><><>><><>>

 In a huff of rage, confusion, and unshed tears, Jo stormed out of the Roadhouse.  On autopilot, she followed the usual path she took when she went wandering after a fight with her mom.  She stopped suddenly, not sure why, and stared at her feet until she noticed familiar boots next to the Impala’s wheel. She froze and lifted her head, her eyes locking with Dean’s. She didn't expect to see them still here.  She wouldn't have come out this way if she had known.

Spinning in place, Jo stalks away as she heard boots against the gravel.  “That bad, huh?” Dean teased as he matched her step by step. His tone told her he assumed she was just a typical daughter rebelling against her mom.  

“Not right now.” Jo winced as her voice broke, her emotions threatening to break her.  Part of her wanted Dean to make everything better. The other part heard her mother's words of “like father, like sons" ringing in her head, insisting she couldn't trust Dean. Or Sam.  With anything. They had used her for bait, just like.....

Dean caught up with her “What happened?” He grabbed for her arm. “Hey,  talk to me.”

She heard the concern in his voice as she yanked her arm out if his grasp, turning to face him, ready to throw down.  “Get off me!”

 With a flash of hurt across his eyes, Dean got the message loud and clear but tried to act like her words didn't sting. “Sorry, see you around.”  He turned back to his car, hands raised.

“Dean,” she called just loud enough for him to hear, though she didn't know why she called him back really.  Hadn’t she just told him to go fuck himself essentially. She hated her brain at times.

 As he turned back to her, she stepped toward him. “Turns out my dad had a partner on his last hunt.  Funny, he usually worked alone. This guy did, too. Guess my father figured he could trust him.” Her voice cracked again as the tears fill her eyes.  “It was a mistake. Guy screwed up, got my dad killed.”

 It was written all over Dean’s face that he didn't know this.  Not a single part of it. “What’s this have to do with-

“It was your father,  Dean.”

 She watched as his confusion worsened.  She knew he held John on a pedestal. This was going to make that marble crumble, and the furious, bleeding part of her heart that could never quite let go of her daddy couldn't help striking out at the closest thing she had to John Winchester.

 “Why do you think John never came back, never told you about us?  Cause he couldn't look my mother in the eye after that. That’s why.”

 Dean shook his head, either in disbelief or apology or both.   He seemed to want to reach out to her but held back. “Jo,” he started in earnest, before she cut him off.

 

“Just-" She paused as their eyes met.  She wanted nothing more than to crawl in his embrace and let him make this better.  But she couldn’t; she couldn’t do that to her mom, her dad, or herself. “Just get out of here.”  She swallowed hard and her voice turned dull and emotionless. “Please just leave.” 

Jo did not wait for him to respond.  She turned on her heel and headed in the opposite direction down the road, finally letting her tears flow as the wind whipped hair across her face. She didn’t even glance up as the Impala raced by her at break neck speed, leaving her behind in a cloud of swirling dust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> None of the songs mentioned in this story are mine, same as the Winchesters belong to someone else. 
> 
> Ready for Love by Bad Company  
> Stranglehold by Ted Nugent. 
> 
> Songs that crept into Jo’s dreams all popped up while listening to a Classic Rock Mix on Pandora and seemed to fit really well. 
> 
> Thunderstruck by AC/DC  
> Long Cool Woman (In A Black Dress) by The Hollies  
> Smoke on the water by Deep Purple  
> Wild Horses by Rolling Stones  
> Magic Man by Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thank you and love to marksmanfem. She has been a great supporter through my hiatus the past few years and cheered me on with this.


End file.
